It's Complicated
by Raven and Writing Desks
Summary: Drowning herself in liquor and suffocating herself with nicotine has made her numb to the regrets between her sheets. SasuSaku.
1. trying to forget you

_**note: **while this is a SasuSaku fic, it does contain MutliSaku.(I'm putting this warning in for you, anons)_

* * *

_**It's Complicated**_

_trying to forget you_

* * *

She glances at the message on her phone screen, though she has already memorized the words.

_Your mom called me, I'm coming. _

Six words. That is all it took for her to fly off the handle.

She moves the arm wrapped around her waist back to the side of its owner before rolling out of the rumpled bed. Her head still spins from the alcohol she put away the night before and her throat is dry. Sunlight blasts through the room, bathing everything in its warm, golden light and doing absolutely nothing for Sakura's pounding head.

After donning her silk robe, she stumbles her way out of her bedroom and to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. Greedily she twists off the cap and begins guzzling down the cool liquid. Instantly, the desert in her throat is soothed if only for a moment.

She stares at the screen again – her eyes squinting at the brightness of the illuminated screen – and the ten numbers listed beside the word "sender." Angrily, she throws the device across the room hoping for the satisfaction of hearing something break, however, it lands on the couch in living room with little more than a plop.

_Figures. _

Setting her bottle on the counter, she returns to the bedroom. Sleepy eyes look up at her with a smirk.

"Mornin' Sak," he mumbles before pulling her back into bed with him. She does not protest, but her face remains in a permanent frown.

"You need to leave," she tells him as he attempts to kiss her neck.

"You need to kiss me," he leans forward, but she stops him with a hand to his chest.

"Kiba, I'm serious."

"You're always serious, Sak," he nuzzles her chest and she does not protest. "You need to relax more."

This time she does not attempt to move as he kisses her. She sighs; Kiba has always been very good with his tongue. She moves to straddle his hips and finds herself leaning forward completely reciprocating the kiss and forgetting all about the text message.

Suddenly, Kiba pulls back. "Do you hear that?" he asks.

She does and she knows that it is her front door unlocking, but she could not care less. All she wants to do is forget about that text message and the damn person that sent it so she continues kissing him, keeping her green eyes wide open as she hears heavy footsteps make their way down the hall.

Somebody clears his throat and Kiba practically pushes her onto the ground in his attempt to get up.

"Who the hell are you?" Kiba shouts and Sakura doesn't even bother turning her head towards the door. She knows who it is.

"I think you should leave," a deep male voice responds and Sakura feels shivers roll down her naked spine.

"Why should I?" Kiba responds, though he begins pulling on his scattered clothing anyways.

"Just go, Kiba," Sakura orders softly, "I'll text you later."

He exits her bedroom – nicotine reeking shirt and shoes in hand – but turns to the somber, dark-haired man still standing in the doorway.

"Are you her cousin or something?" he asks lamely while slipping on his sneakers.

"Of course not," dark eyes narrow at Kiba as a pale hand begins shutting the door in his face.

"I'm her fiancé."

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**_A/N: _**_Fair warning, in this piece I plan on experimenting with temporal distortion so the chapters may jump around in terms of chronological order. Just let me know if it gets too weird or confusing :)_


	2. over the edge, over again

Once he ushers Sakura's "friend" from the apartment, Sasuke exits the entryway and walks down the corridor. He glances in the bedroom to find it in the expected state of disarray after last night's drunken romp.

Lace,

Latex,

Liquor,

But no pink-haired girl.

Continuing on his way, he ends up in the kitchen, which feeds into the spacious living room. Both areas are surrounded by giant windows that take the place of walls, revealing to the world of all of the secrets within the high-rise penthouse.

He scrutinizes the empty bottles and full ashtrays. It is the unspoken actions not visible to the naked eye that are all the more obvious.

His mind shifts to another time and of other actions with little evidence but large consequences.

Outside one of the windows, he sees her figure standing on the outer balcony. The morning breeze blows her short robe up, revealing her red lingerie and carries the cloud of smoke away, as she leans against the guardrail.

She has always been small, but that just makes her seem all the more deadly.

When he steps out to join her, she does not bother to turn around, just stabs her finished cigarette on the iron railing and lights another one. Coming up next to her he leans his back against the metal railing, facing away from the view of the city below.

They linger in silence, the long period of absence weighing heavily between them. The only noise comes from the slight hiss of her drags and the flick of the scratch of a match against its box.

A habit that she has developed. Lighting a match, throwing it aside. Lighting a match, blowing it out. Lighting a match and simply staring at the flame until it almost caresses her fingertips.

This time, she lights a match and sends it tumbling to the street multiple stories below. Sasuke opens his mouth to comment on the danger of dropping aflame objects over the side of a skyscraper, but her words are quicker.

"So ignorant of what happens above them," she says, but her tone suggests that she is simply speaking with herself. "Must be fun."

They fall back into the silence.

Looming.

Suffocating.

Vexing.

He eventually sneaks a glance and watches as she brings another cigarette to her full lips, inhaling deeply, before a stream of smoke escapes her mouth in a dainty curl.

"You shouldn't smoke," he eventually says.

She takes another drag, her pretty emerald eyes full of defiance, and he remembers another time. One when those eyes were dusted with silver glitter and full of hurt.

A time that he seems to be thinking about often, today.

Then as her eyebrows peak in disdain she closes the distance between them as if to kiss him, but instead exhales a large mass of foul smelling smoke in his face.

His face remains passive as it chokes away his oxygen supply and fills his lungs.

Cruel glare turns to disappointment at his lack of reaction, she brings down the butt of the cancer stick to the railing between Sasuke's middle and ring finger before twisting it angrily.

"Why do you care?" she spits out, tossing the extinguished end over the railing.

"Because you're my fiancé," he replies nonchalantly.

"Don't call me that," she says heatedly and it's a wonder that such a cruel tone could come from such a pretty face. "No matter what our parents call it, you and I both know that this is not an engagement."

He doesn't reply to this, just watches as she composes herself.

"Though I suppose you're here under Fugaku's orders to break it off," she sighs before turning around to head back into the apartment. "I'll go pack."

"No," Sasuke stops her. "My father does not know about your actions."

"Oh?" An eyebrow rises at this, curiously. "And how is it that something this _ruining_ has escaped his attention?"

Snarky.

Biting.

Angry.

"He believes you are here on a job as a nanny," Sasuke says as they both enter the kitchen.

"And who fed him that pack of lies?" She asks while searching through a cabinet.

"I did."

Her movements halt and she just stares at him, her face revealing none of her thoughts.

Seeming to make up her mind about something, she pushes past him to get to the hallway.

"I suddenly lost my appetite."

He watches her stomp down the hall, her cropped, pink hair still mussed from sleep and sex, before entering the bathroom and slamming to door behind her.

Exhaling and thinking that this morning could have gone worse, Sasuke begins disposing of the empty bottles. Most of them are beer, but there is some vodka, some rimmed with bright red lipstick, some not.

Each of them guzzled down for all of the wrong reasons.

He hears the shower start and wonders if she'll come out of the bathroom at all today. He would not put it past her to lock herself in there for a day, after all, she has done it before.

Looking into her bedroom again, he eyes the items littering the ground.

A tube of lipstick,

Her overturned purse,

A black thong,

Condom wrappers.

Deciding that he is not hungry for breakfast either, he turns to the guest room and lies down on the bed, ignoring the gnawing sensation in his stomach.

_Poor, pretty boy. Look at what you've caused. _


End file.
